


Star Child

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Cute, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Magic is Awesome, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Star-bright, star-light. Grown of night, yet as of light. As strands of gold, and stars untold. Ye shall take darken unto fold." </p><p>...and others tell of the Star Child; a Unicorn, black as ebony, hair of golden silk and eyes of emerald green, racing through the Forbidden forest, the Sire of all time. </p><p>A little sweet, a little angsty, a little cracky and a whole lot of fun :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star Child

**Title: Star Child**

When your cousin is a size that no self-respecting whale should ever be; and you have lived with said whale for the majority of your life, it stands to reason that junk food and candy would be easily accessible in the near vicinity.

Which in itself was true enough.

However, when you live in a cupboard, wear hand-me-down whale clothes, eat less than table scraps at your one meal of the day, and your best friend *read: only friend, is the tiny spider that lives in the corner of your cupboard, whom you have named Max (the spider, not the cupboard), it stands to reason that the closest you might ever get to a sugary treat that most children stuff their faces with, is trying to not watch your cousin as he eats the 4litre tub of ice cream while watching TV, another thing you've never really done. Oh…and all this while you're scrubbing the kitchen floor.

Your Aunt would probably insist you did this with your toothbrush, only they never gave you one.

In normal circumstances, this lack of junk food would have been deemed incredibly healthy; and Harry's weight and teeth would have benefited greatly, not to mention his skin when he reached his acne prone teenage years. That's not to say that a treat on occasion is a bad thing, but rather a matter of better too little than too much, Dudley being case in point.

Harry however, possibly as a result of his parent's petite stature or maybe due to the complete lack of decent food, nutritious or otherwise, his daily chores list, aka child slavery, the slightly cramped living quarters and general all around abuse, was not your average child.

Oh and Lily  _was_  very slender, true, but she was also at least average height and James Potter was 6'1 (Just saying).

In fact, Harry could have done with a few of the calories that Dudley consumed every day.

Anyway…Getting back to the point, Harry Potter was the well advanced age of 9 years before he tasted his first confectionery.

* * *

Now I see you staring at the computer screen, one eyebrow raised in incredulity (or both if you can't manage one), thinking… _'Do you really mean to say that in all Harry's childhood he never stole one of Dudley's sweets or was given a lolly-pop at the doctors or received one at school as a treat, hell, that he never picked one up at school and ate it from the ground, after all, children can be unhygienic little buggers…"_

Well, look at it this way:

Harry was not, is not and never will be a thief. Not even just to steal from Dudley. Also, the whale ate much too fast for Harry to get a look in, much less a hand for sneaky little tricks.

Harry wasn't permitted to leave the house until he was school aged (the yard was exempt from this- after all, someone had to paint the fence white and weed the garden and mow the lawn and plant the summer annuals and water the flowers, and re-grout the pavement and clean the garage and repaint the fence white. On a daily basis. D _idn't they)._

If Harry wasn't even given a toothbrush or allowed to be seen in public, what were his chances of visiting the doctor?

In Harry's early years at school he was awarded several treats for good behaviour, however school policy was that they were to be saved until break times, and with Dudley in the same classes, do you think Harry got a look in once the bell went?

Harry was a strange little child.

That should cover it.

Oh, also – My story, my rules.

* * *

So, where were we?

Oh yeah…

Little Harry, 9 years old and never having dipped his tender taste-buds into so much as a sugar sachet.

The proceedings proceeding (see what I did there?) up to this rite of passage were both tragically sad and horrifyingly confronting to anyone with a dash of moral sentient or plain humanity; so naturally, the Dursley's were either unaware, unbothered or gratified by the situation. Or all of the above. Although how they could be unaware and unbothered, unaware and gratified or both unbothered and gratified let alone all three, I have no idea. My only recourse is that they are the  _Dursley's_  and hence would manage it somehow.

So yes, 9 years old and innocent to the world of teeth rotting goodness.

* * *

Our little tale really begins on the fifth day of summer, about a fortnight before Harry's tenth birthday and it was, as such, report card time.

Now in the formative schooling years, grades 1-3, students are given generalised report cards.

' _Jenny has good group skills and works well in a position of leadership…she is a pleasure to teach_ '

' _Tom lacks confidence in team sessions, but is rather advanced in maths…he is a pleasure to teach_ '

And so on.

Any truly individualising and detailed reports start in the fourth grade as the start of senior school preparation…and as such, a fortnight before he turned 10, Harry and Dudley received their first individualised report cards, and for the first time someone outright told Mr and Mrs Durlsey that their good for nothing nephew was more intelligent than their precious Dudders. Which, while being grossly obvious and strangely comforting, considering the whale boys lax face during most of his lessons, was not going to be tolerated by the Durlsey parents, and faster than Dudley could spell cake, Harry was in a world of suffering. Cake being a word Dudley both saw and used most every day, this was only as long as it took for Vernon to read the little yellow booklet and relay the information to his wife.

Poor little Harry, punished for the crime of being smarter than his cousin was screamed at, belittled with every synonym for "dumb" and "worthless" that Vernon could think of, which was mostly just 'dumb' and 'worthless 'with a few 'freaks' thrown in for flavour. He was then dragged to his cupboard by the ham fisted hand gripping his mess of black hair and tossed in, the door slammed shut behind him, cutting of all light, save for the tiny sliver than shone beneath the door.

The added  _"YOU STUPID, BRAINLESS LITTLE FREAK….HOW DARE YOU BE SMARTER THAN DUDDERS….IF I SEE YOUR FREAKY LITTLE HEAD BEFORE I LET YOU OUT…"_ was a rather ineffectual threat, but the low growl in his uncles voice and the familiarity of such words persuaded the smart little boy that staying where he was might prove prudent.

* * *

Harry had, on past occasions, been forced into his cupboard for long stretches of time, but Petunia usually called him to cook dinner or weed the garden or mop the kitchen, and he'd have a respite before his incarceration resumed.

However two days later and he hadn't heard hide nor hair of his 'family', he was beyond famished and rather dehydrated, and knew (because he was a smart little boy) that he needed some water before he shrivelled up and died.

And his waste bucket was getting rather odoriferous.

So, disinclined to meet his Uncle doing exactly as he had been told not to do Harry waited until it became dark again, or until his sliver of light disappeared and then he waited some more.

Sure enough, Dudley's thudding steps shook the stairs as he made his way down for a midnight pit stop in the bathroom before plodding, half asleep, back to his bedroom.

Several minutes later Harry pushed open the cupboard door, taking himself and his bucket on a forbidden midnight jaunt.

* * *

In the bathroom he poured the contents of his bucket into the toilet, noting, without surprise, but necessary relief, that Dudley had neglected to flush. Having to flush in the middle of the night would certainly bust him.

He then rinsed his bucket in the tub, using only a trickle of water so as not to make much noise. He crept to the sink to wash his hands and face and then slurped quietly on the chemically treated tap water, drinking his fill, until he felt nauseous but sated, apart from the gnawing hunger that permeated his stomach.

And then, bucket in hand he crept back to his cupboard, said good night to Max and fell asleep, hoping that tomorrow they would let him out, or at least feed him.

* * *

Two nights later, Harry repeated the process.

And then again two nights on.

Six days, a week was the longest he had ever spent in the cupboard and Petunia had chucked a slice of stale bread and tap water in every morning. That stint had been in retaliation for turning his teachers hair blue.

Finally, two nights on again, and past his previous record Harry discovered that Max, in no way, tasted as good as he looked. (And this is when I could totally do a Harry/Spider-man crossover *must resist giant stealth bunny.)

Harry knew that if he didn't get food soon, he would not have the strength to eat it when he did. The week's starvation wasn't being kind to his already malnourished body, beautiful emerald orbs were anguished with the dullness of fatigue and fine tremors shook his delicately boned extremities.

* * *

That night, after returning to his cupboard, empty bucket in hand, Harry turned and snuck back out again, creeping, slinking slowly along the hall, pressed into the shadows; passing the bathroom door and continuing on towards the kitchen, freezing at every creak, jumping at every sound.

Once in the kitchen, apparently safe, as his disobedience had yet to be detected by any of his family, Harry came to a stop, arms crossed protectively across his stomach as he rocked on the balls of his feet, gaze speculative as it wandered over the room's offerings.

He immediately bypassed the fridge, refusing to even acknowledge the temptation that the succulent cold meats and chilled treats held; knowing that the annoying 'bing' the stupid thing emitted when opened would have Vernon storming down the stairs like a walrus in heat, which was not something Harry liked to imagine, let alone come face to face with.

Instead he turned to the pantry, easing the door open without so much as a squeak. Not in Petunia Dursley's house.

A hinge wouldn't so much as squeak, a speck of dust not so much as sneak.

Ignoring everything above his eye line, not willing to risk falling or breaking the shelves should he try climbing them, Harry stepped into the enclosed space, searching for something to satiate the all-consuming hunger.

The tinned goods were discarded without a thought; simply too much effort and would leave too much evidence. Likewise went the dinner goods, such as pasta and rice. Cooking ingredients were deemed unsuitable and just the thought of the unholy mess flour would leave turned Harry green.

Not that he wanted to eat flour anyway.

Finally his gaze settled on Dudley's shelf.

(Yes. Dudley has his own shelf).

Bags and bags of crisps and lollies and biscuits, cartons of soft drink and individually boxed cakes all lined up in a myriad of bright colours and attractive boxes.

And Harry knew he couldn't have any of it.

Dudley, for all that he was a stupid, pigheaded, big headed, bigoted brat, had one skill that defied reason. Dudley had counted and recounted every single individual packet of crisps, knew how many biscuits where in each specific brand, every detail, down to the last Twinkie.

And if even one item was missing, Harry would be blamed, whether he was guilty or not.

Harry knew this because Dudley had cried wolf way to many times in the past, it was always unpleasant for Harry and resulted in Dudley being placated with an obscene amount of new confectionery.

Harry shuddered to think what the result would be if he actually  _did_ take some of Dudley's food.

Tearing his eyes from the all too enticing junk food, Harry continued his search.

He knew exactly what he needed- the only problem?

He had no idea what that actually was.

He knew it had to be readily edible; no cooking involve. It had to be something that the Dursley's wouldn't miss, i.e- Dudley's food was off limits, as was Petunia's dried fruit and nuts. It also had to be something that wasn't going to be noticeably missing; it was no good taking a bag or box of something if he left a gap on the shelf that his anal Aunt would no doubt see.

Each idea he considered was all too soon discarded and Harry was beginning to despair that nothing would suit his clandestine needs and that he would be found starved to death in his cupboard one day, and most likely buried out back under the roses he was tasked with planting come next month.

And then, like the holy grail of starving little boys, he saw them, several, innumerable, in a clear glass jar, one shelf above his head and slightly towards the back, just peeking out behind a box of breakfast cereal.

White and pink and pink and white, softly dusted with icing powder.

Gently, gently Harry eased the large jar out from behind the box, carefully taking note of the exact way it was facing, and the exact position of the box behind it.

Grinning madly,he pulled his prize to his chest.

Stilling for an instant and silent for a second, he tilted his head and listened, and having reassured himself that he could still hear Vernon's snores from upstairs and that there was no footsteps within the house, he eased the solid glass lid from the jar, pulling gently, breaking the seal slowly, avoiding any popping noise as the lid came of silently, and Harry bent his nose to the open jar, taking a long, slow sniff.

All he could really smell was sugar, and that suited him just fine.

Of course, fruit and vegetables would be a better option for the starving orphan, but unfortunately, as we have already discussed this was not an option for young Harry and so a quick energy hit would be a distant second best.

Resisting the urge to stand there in the kitchen and stuff his face with the ill-gotten goods, Harry forced himself to be rational, fear that the Dursley's would find out increasing as his stomach awoke and started to rumble in the presence of sustenance. Knowing that every extra second he spent out of his cupboard increased the risk of getting caught, Harry broke from his fanciful musings and stuck his hand in the jar, grabbing a modest, but decent handful, and was pleased to see that once he replaced the lid and shook the jar, the missing quantity wasn't noticeable at all.

Stashing his loot into the pocket of his much too big sweat pants, Harry carefully and exactly replaced the jar back in the cupboard, slowly closed the door with barely a click and crept back out of the kitchen, stealing down the hall and back into his 'room'. He flopped on the bed, giddy with adrenaline, barely able to believe what he'd just done.

Finally the insistent grumble of his stomach pulled him from his exuberant yet disbelieving thoughts and he pulled one of the soft treats from his pocket, ignoring the sudden urge to gulp them all down at once, knowing that he needed to ration his available food and allow his body time to register that he was actually eating.

Starvation was one of Harry's skill-sets.

Putting the soft lump to his lips, the-boy-who-would-soon-know-he-was-the-boy-who-liv ed took a tiny nibble from one side, barely more than a hint of sweetness and then it was gone, melted and swallowed in his suddenly salivating mouth.

Shrugging one shoulder, Harry decided that a nibble wasn't enough, and without further thought, put the whole thing in his mouth.

* * *

Heaven, pure and utter delight.

Exquisitely soft, cool against his warm searching tongue, creamy inside, almost softly sponging, with just the barest amount of structure forming the exterior. Eyes closed in blissed out sensation, Harry savoured every taste.

Pulling the rest of his loot from his pocket Harry quickly counted the soft swollen lumps, and then rechecked, just to be sure; coming to the conclusion that he had nine of the unknown yet heavenly little confections left.

Without knowing how long his incarceration in the cupboard was to last, Harry couldn't logically ration and so with all the intelligence that smart little 9 year old could muster, determined that three a day, breakfast lunch and dinner, would give him enough to last three days.

So naturally, they were all gone by morning.

Fortunately, Aunt petunia's shrill squawk echoed through the house while Harry was still mourning the digestion of his final treat.

"Harry! Breakfast on the table in 20 minutes!" the words themselves could have been the loving wake-up call from Aunt to nephew, if it hadn't been for the vile manner in which 'Harry' was screeched, as if the word was as disgusting and loathsome as she thought the child himself.

Harry was more than aware that it was a summons to  _prepare_  breakfast, and the 9 year old knew that he'd be lucky to scavenge a few scraps.

However, he couldn't feel too poorly for himself that morning, not with the last remnants of the powdery sugar still coating the inside of his mouth.

* * *

It was the following winter that Harry found out the identity of his stolen sweets, when Aunt Petunia used them in Dudley's hot coca.

Marshmallows.

Marsh…mallows.

Marshymallows.

Harry had rolled the word around his mouth a few more times, and decided that it was an appropriate name for the soft lumps; of course, had it not been, he would have just renamed them.

Thankfully, Harry never had need to steal from the Dursley's pantry again (although, frankly he would have welcomed the chance to liberate a few more of his hidden treat); certainly, he was locked in his cupboard again, on numerous occasions for many serious and dastardly behaviours, like not mowing the lawn to an  _exact_ uniform 10cm height, and being  _too_ convincingly stupid at school.

All in all, he really was a rather beastly child.

And then of course, came the Hogwarts letter…and  _everyone_ knows how that debacle went.

* * *

Now – if this were a movie, (an anti-budget, no taste, shot on my iPhone movie at that) this would be where we would see the psychedelic swirls and pulsating colour on a black backdrop that ran for approximately 30 seconds,followed by a large florescent green 'word-art' like scroll across the screen, intoning –

_3 YEARS LATER._

_(With numeric details for the digit three – yes, it's that crass)_

_Thankfully – it's not such a movie – so instead I'll just tell you that its three years later._

* * *

_THREE YEARS LATER_

The first time he had stepped onto the thick, moss covered stones that formed the entrance chamber floor and run his fingers across stone walls that while cool to the touch, were so warm with life and magic; Harry knew he had finally come home.

And then of course, came the fame, _-'eyes as green as a fresh pickled toad',_ adventures - _'flying ford Anglia anyone? ',_ misfortune – _'Dobby and that pudding,_ fear – ' _giant basilisk serpents'_  - bravery -  _'Dementors' .._ Stupidity-  _'mountain trolls'…._ And of course _…_ magic.

" _You're a wizard Harry"_

Now, putting all that aside, because I'm sure that  _someone_  has already written just such a tale; with a lot more finesse than I could ever put to paper, we might manage to progress with the plot of this 'plot, what plot' ficlet.

* * *

A family better than the Dursley's had ever been, a dorm with more warmth than his cupboard had ever held, clothing which he needn't learn to swim in, enough food to fill the emptiest stomach and no walruses, horses or whales to speak of.

Heaven.

Ron Weasely, for all his families basic poverty was, in Harry's opinion, the richest person that he had ever met.

Family, love, loyalty, affection.

Harry would give every last galleon, sickle and knut in his vault for just a fraction of that wealth.

Hermione Granger, despite all her intelligence and wit; with its well documented ability to corrupt, was still the most steadfast, loyal and slightly nosy, (in a good way) girl that Harry knew. The rest just stared, blushed and giggled when he entered the room.

Shy Neville – so softly spoken and generous, so good, kind and gentle.

Loud Dean – with his tragically warped fashion sense and overly developed comedic humour.

Shamus – Already two foot taller than his dorm mates and three taller than Harry. He thought it uproariously funny to tie his dorm mate's socks to their beds' high curtain rails. Except Harry's, who's honour he often defended like Harry was some blushing damsel in disguise rather than the boy-who-lived, already with a dark lord under his belt.

Well – that came out wrong.

Regardless – all good friends, all different, unique, but all good, and over the course of his years at Hogwarts Harry became fast friends with all of them.

* * *

Often they studied together, sat through meals and quidditch games together, attended borderline illegal parties in the dorm room after curfew together (courtesy fire-whiskey supplied by Fred and George) – many an evening would find them sitting in their dorm room, or the common room (before Hermione braved the boys dorm room (when she didn't care about her reputation or people became too afraid of her to ever suggest anything of the kind) sharing tales of their growing distant youths, expulsion worthy adventures, and as they grew, more serious 'kiss and tell – or not' topics.

Splurging on pilfered sweets, treats and candy – from the kitchen, home care packages, pilfered from younger students and in third year – Hogsmeade.

Over the years, favourites were decided and freely offered as well as viciously hoarded.

Ron loved the exploding orange flavour of Nitro dragon eggs – tiny egg shaped hard candy in a furious shade of orange. Upon contact with moisture they grew warm until exploding and the feel of simulated claws and talons trekked across the tongue gently – like a tiny horde of dragons within ones mouth.

Hermione, respecting her parent's profession as dentists chose the most sugar soaked sickeningly sweet candy she could get her hands on. Her utmost favourite was the magical equivalent to cotton candy; fairy gossamer.

Dean discovered, about two thirds of the way through third year that he absolutely  _loved_  blood pops. It had started as a rather disgusting prank played by Fred and George, but the resulting infatuation caused the Gryffindor to all but profess his undying love for Gred and Forge.

Shamus adored the rare, and bloody expensive, if he did say so, (if he didn't than Ron surely would) 'Velvet Diamond's, 'glazed diamond, sliver thin, augmented by magic of course, slathered in rich milk chocolate. He insisted he just liked the flavour, but no one was fooled- it was the prestige and distinction that the high priced morsel attracted that really drew the young Gryffindor. Although, admittedly; they did taste  _divine._

Neville was predictably enamoured of 'Mr Juleps' mint fudge', in fact he liked anything with mint, but was particularly favourable towards the soft candy.

And so it was, that Birthdays, Christmas's, Valentines, Easter's, pick-me-up's, forgive me's and all other assortment of occasions were accompanied by the specifically required confection, assured of being favourably accepted.

Except for Harry.

* * *

The boy-who-lived was quite reserved when it came to candy, in fact he was indifferent to all meals as no teenage boy should be, no doubt courtesy of all the whale slobber he had been forced to observe over the years.

However, come his birthday of second year, none of his little friends had any idea what would be a great birthday treat and what would be received with lacklustre, though polite, enthusiasm.

* * *

Ron had no idea what to get Harry after one of their usual spats, during which even Ron was aware he had been blatantly unreasonable (after much prodding from Hermione), unsure which candy would be best received as a silent, manly, yet heartfelt 'sorry.'

* * *

Hermione, ever the know-it-all, smartest-witch-of-her-age, wise-beyond-her-years etc., etc., accolades, accolades…. Had no idea what to get Harry as a thank you gift after he spent several long, exhaustive hours trying, (and eventually succeeding) to teach Hermione the hair straightening charm – not that he would  _ever_  straighten his hair, and if he had happened to  _test_  the spell – well his hair was as unruly as ever within two minutes.

* * *

And so it went, Harry disabused with the allure of candy, unsure what the fuss was about and his friends were all stuck in mild states of disbelief and despair.

This was a very serious issue after all.

* * *

Easter of fourth year they had even tried to hold an intervention, cornering Harry in their dorm with bucket loads of sweets and chocolate.

Forced, much to his wary disgust to try each and every one of the 812 varieties of confection had produced two things.

1 – Harry still stubbornly refused to pick a favourite

2- They tasted even worse coming back up, periodically over the next two day, where Harry was confined to the hospital wing under the disapproving eye of Madam Promfey.

The five were treated to a furious tongue lashing, the silent treatment and the cold shoulder.

For good few minutes, until Harry's innate goodness rose to the surface and he forgave them.

Thus time went by, those who had favourites enjoying them, and those who didn't (Harry) not enjoying them.

* * *

Summer Holidays before fifth year, beyond dealing with the inconvenience of Cedric's death, all students were of course, required to shop for the coming years school supplies.

Which is what found Harry perusing the deep, dim, dank, dusty, dark, dull, dingy and altogether quite disgusting glass front cabinets at his local Diagon Alley apothecary.

Fifth year potions students, now officially classified as 'seniors' were therefore required to assemble their own 'senior' potions kit , taking into consideration the potions the syllabus declared they would be brewing throughout the year.

He'd already located the majority of the ingredients and was just searching for four Gollyhart…well, hearts.

Gollyhart hearts.

Finally he located the little black buttons under several reams of some poor unidentified skin, and carried his haul to the counter; which, to his disgust, still came to the height of his chest. With effort he managed to get the quite considerable armful of goods onto the counter and stepped back to wait for the store owner to notice him.

Several minutes later he was still waiting and so he finally tapped the small silver bell on the counter.

A loud commotion echoed from the back room and the sound of several mild explosions predetermined the flustered apothecia's entrance to the actual store.

"Lad! How can I help you?" his robust voice boomed out as he clapped Harry on the shoulder.

What then followed was one of the most uncomfortable 15 minutes of Harry's life.

Which – having lived in a cupboard, fought dementors, Voldemort and seen a friend die, was really saying something.

* * *

It had started out innocently enough, with Harry gesturing to the counter and withdrawing his money pouch.

That's when it deteriorated.

Firstly the man had asked who he was buying the ingredients for, an older brother or sister perhaps.

He had then proceeded to quite kindly tell Harry that he couldn't purchase several of the ingredients himself as the age restrictions didn't allow non-seniors to come into contact with such volatile reactions.

Harry had of course corrected his mistake, informing the man that he was both 5th year at Hogwarts and 15 years old.

Which set the man off into hysterical laughter and earned Harry several more hefty pats on the back and a "Good one, Lad!"

So Harry had become frustrated, insisting that he be allowed to buy his ingredients, knowing that if he was late getting back to the predetermined pick up destination then Vernon would have no qualms leaving his nephew behind.

The good natured owner had then become a little riled at such "Blatant lying and disrespect".

To which our calm tempered young Gryffindor had responded quite serenely.

Not.

Harry would be hard pressed to remember exactly what he had said, but several phrases still echoed in his mind afterwards.

" _ **Discrimination against the vertically challenged!"**_

" _ **Recognise the truth if it flew up your ass!"**_

" _ **RESPECT!…how about a little respect for the chosen one!"**_

" _ **Save your life! No thanks, no parade, no accolades…Turn on me!"**_

" _ **Harry BLOODY Potter!"**_

" _ **Merlins sake…GIVE ME MY INGREDIANTS!"**_

He may have also conveniently flipped his fringe up at the correctly timed interval.

And  **that's**  when the discomfort started.

" _ **Oh! Harry Potter!...You're Harry Potter?...Of course you're Harry Potter!"**_

" _ **Deepest apologies. So terribly sorry, please forgive me…never would have assumed…"**_

" _ **My Store…Harry Potter in MY store!"**_

" _ **All Free…and here have this gold cauldron!"**_

" _ **Honour of shaking your hand?"**_

" _ **Autograph?"**_

" _ **Hug?"**_

It went on and on and on….and on.

Until finally Harry managed to weasel himself out of the free cauldron, reluctantly accepted the apothecia's last offer of half price ingredients, shook his hand, avoided both an autograph and a photo but was down one hug.

Quickly forking over the pitiful amount of gold he was allowed to part with Harry began to gather the ingredients into his bottomless potions kit, avidly avoiding the openly staring owner.

And then his eyes settled on it.

On a shelf, high above the apothecia's head was a small Jar – tiny in fact, no bigger than Harry's clenched fist (Which we have already established as being quite small). Inside were several small white lumps, glowing with soft radiant light; very obviously magical, yet Harry immediately recognised them.

His eyes grew huge, his hands clammy and his mouth started to water, it had been 7 years since he had sampled that divine taste, but he remembered as if yesterday.

If the besotted store owner had somehow missed the freezing of Harry's hands halfway to putting the CornJacks in his bag, then there was no way he missed when Harry's fiery green eyes of emerald death started to actually glow.

Swivelling to see what had enchanted the young saviour so, the store owner's eyes widened as he recognised the most expensive item he kept in stock.

His eyes narrowed slightly and then glinted as he quietly summoned the jar, pulled the lid and put three of the small morsels in a specially designed box, specifically for this ingredient.

He handed it to the boy, realising that he was handing over almost a year's earnings, yet not caring.

"That must be some potion, Lad!" was all Harry got before he was ushered out of the store, cheeks flaming, gift in hand.

* * *

Harry had of course been unable to wait for the return to Hogwarts to savour one of his precious treasures; in fact he had been hard pressed to wait until he got back to the Dursley's. The whole return car trip Harry hadn't even heard Uncle Vernon's tirade, his mind firmly entrenched in the contents of the little white box.

That night, after having mowed the lawn, painted the fence, weeded the garden, cooked tea and cleaned the kitchen Harry had finally escaped to his room, sinking his weary body down onto the thin mattress and leaning back in exhaustion.

The little white box caught his attention.

He eased it open, gleefully counting the three little white puffs and finally stealing on the one to the right.

Lifting it from the box he held it aloft, green gaze studying every minute detail, until eventually, finally, devastatingly afraid that it wouldn't live up to his expectations and memory, Harry placed the blob on his tongue.

* * *

His eyes dropped closed in ecstasy, all but dribbling with the sensational burst of flavour.

It rose to his highest expectations and then surpassed them.

It was, without a doubt, the most _heavenly_ thing he had ever tasted.

The magical worlds answer to the muggle Marshmallow.

And Harry had a favourite.

* * *

No one, certainly not Harry, was in the room later that night, (after a reasonable amount of time to allow for digestion) to see Harry skin start to shine (Think sparkle!pire) and his hair to grow several inches and turn golden.

By morning the skin glitter was gone, except for a soft glimmer which could have been accredited to a sheen of sweat, and the golden locks had all but disappeared, although the length remained, easily concealing the few slender strands of gold that remained.

Harry didn't even notice, as busy as he was with his chores and homework.

He did notice when he woke with shoulder length hair the morning after he ate his second marshmallow. The golden strands were a little more prominent to one who was staring intently from several millimetres away, although, because Harry had no one to card their fingers through his hair, he didn't notice this. The soft sheen to his skin became slightly more permanent, less like sweat and more like a totally un!ick oil sheen.

Harry wrote it off to his maturing magic, having heard the speech about reach majority from McGonagall at the end of last year.

The third marshmallow, eaten the night before his return to Hogwarts seemed to solidify several things.

His hair grew halfway down his back and, in the light; deeply interspersed golden strands could be seen.

And his skin no longer glittered, glimmered, sparkled or glinted.

It now glowed.

A soft glow, that most would assume a trick of the light.

Well – or that Harry was pregnant.

Trick of the light.

Harry of course, noticed the hair, and seeing as it was  _only_ hair, he wasn't too concerned; it was hardly harming him.

Besides he quite liked it…it didn't stick up everywhere.

The skin…being a typically unobservant male, Harry didn't even notice other than to silently remark on the lack of any blemishes on his teenage face.

Save one of course.

New hair style quite accepted; Harry Potter was off to Hogwarts.

* * *

It caused quite a stir.

Of course it could all be explained away – accidental magic, 'Diagon alley style cuts', Harry Potter!ism just some of the numerous theories floating around the school.

The Professors speculated and wondered, but it was neither dangerous nor outlandish, and indeed it seemed to suit him well; in fact, several of Harry's Professors commented on him looking healthier than they had ever seen him.

Of course, none of them wondered about why this was, nor why he had been unhealthy  _before_.

* * *

Harry got attention from girls.

Harry got attention from boys.

Harry ran all but screaming, cheeks flushed, in the other direction, hiding behind the protective wall that was Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean and Shamus.

Harry's fan base was a bloody maniacal nuisance.

* * *

A month into the new year, the hype had died down (relatively) and Harry felt safe venturing out alone again, no longer afraid for his virtue.

The Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas had Harry (and several hundred others) trolling the nearby wizarding village for gift ideas for friends and family.

Harry was also ducking in and out of every apothecary and potions supplier in the whole town.

It had several of his friend worried he was looking for a gift for Snape. Harry had gone green at just the query.

Finally, after having ditched the others to find 'specific presents' (i.e. - theirs) Harry finally found what he was looking for in the tiny high end supplier than only professor Snape knew about.

And now Harry.

* * *

He would later swear that his nose led him there.

The little sign above the doorway read "Astor's finest potion supplies" and Harry heard the tinkle of small bells as he entered the room.

Soft light bathed the clean benches and pristine glass front cabinets. All the ingredients were extremely well organised and in well cared for containers, clearly labelled.

Harry strolled down the aisles, running green eyes over the beautiful penmanship that named things for him, looking for the marshmallows that he was so fond of.

He didn't locate them in the 'M' section, and thus rightly figured that they had a different name in the magical kingdom and moved to peruse the shelves randomly, searching for the treats.

He finally located them in the "U" section.

"Unicorn-Taff"

His favourite now had a name…

He pulled the small jar forward and emptied the twenty or so little morsels into the box provide and made his way to the counter.

As he approached the counter (again – disturbingly high), a tall, thin woman with long black hair and piercing dark eyes entered the room from behind the counter, gesturing for his goods impatiently.

"Hurry up you moronic child, I have a very delicate and intricate potion brewing in the backroom and the stasis spell only lasts three minutes…"

Harry, staring at she-Snape, put his purchase onto the counter and saw the dark eyes narrow further, a quick glance up at him and a barely noticeable flicker to his scar told the woman what she wanted to know.

Rather than arguing with the child, and risk destroying the potion she was brewing, she merely rang up his purchase and accepted the obscene amount of gold the boy handed her.

Harry grinned shyly and she-Snape sneered back, moving to return to her position when Harry spoke, "Madam, I will pay well for any Unicorn-Taff you can provide, please contact me at Hogwarts if you are interested. Good-day."

She-Snape stared after him, wondering at the bizarre request.

Unicorn Taff was only used in a few very select, extremely complicated potions.

However, those few potions were extremely light based and the boy's money was as good as any.

She would send what she could.

* * *

Students began to return to Gryffindor tower a little before 5, the gates closing at 6, each weighed down with multitudes of shrunken gifts/candy/clothing and other miscellaneous goods.

Several met in the common room, settling to chat about their day, the upcoming exams, impending holidays and whatnot.

Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean and Sheamus were joined by the three remaining Weasely siblings not yet mentioned; namely the twins and Ginny.

Fred and George were joking and plotting with the prank goods they had gotten that day and the others listened and contributed when they wanted. Every so often a gaze would shoot towards the common room portrait before settling back into the conversation with unease. The closer it got to 6, the more the gazes swept.

Harry had agreed to meet them back at the castle, saying he had only a few more things he wanted to get, but this was  _Harry Potter_ they were talking about.

The teens were just beginning in bemoan their stupidity aloud when the portrait cracked open and Harry wondered in.

And I do mean wandered.

* * *

He floated over to the group, calmly ignoring the regular stares with only small smiles given in greeting, rather than the perpetual blush that stained his cheeks at the discomfort that all the attention caused.

He flopped down between the twins, when normally he would avoid feeling closed in.

And greeted them with an exuberant, "Hi, guys!"

The previously mentioned worry escalated and several were contemplating fetching a teacher.

Fred checked for a temperature with a large hand to the back of Harry's neck, whilst his twin tipped Harry's face towards him, searching for signs of drugging or bespelling in the form of glazed or dilated eyes.

Harry just laughed and gently batted them away.

This only sacred them more. Harry should have pitched a fit at being 'babied'.

"Guys, I'm fine, just Happy. I finally found my favourite candy during the holidays, and I found some more today."

His friends relaxed, recognising the truth and Harry settled back, enjoying the camaraderie of his closest friends.

* * *

Knowing that his treat was ridiculously expensive and rather rare Harry was careful to ration himself, making sure he enjoyed the delightful Taff.

One a night for the next twenty nights, and Harry was in sensation heaven.

Never once did he think it strange that his candy was classified a potions ingredient.

His friends were a little shocked upon seeing his choice, several of them recognising the extremely expensive ingredient from their 'light reading' and 'prank research', but as Harry was aware of what he was eating and showed no strange side effects they let him be.

The look of pure joy on his face and the beatific smile he gave was enough to convince them that the treat was more than just good for their friend, never had they seen Harry so happy and content.

They did however, all choose to decline the soft treats when offered; for two reasons.

1\. Harry only had access to a very limited number and they didn't want to deprive him

2\. The idea of eating the potions ingredient, despite the glowing recommendation Harry gave, still made several of them queasy.

Harry had always been a bit of a strange one though.

* * *

And so it came to be, that whenever she-Snape got her hands on any Unicorn-Taff, it was sent to Harry and the money was taken from the Potter Vault.

And while it was expensive for what it was, the accumulated wealth of the Potter family was enough that Harry could buy and eat every single Unicorn-Taff found over the next 150 years and still not make a dent in his fortune.

And don't even get me started on the Black Vaults.

* * *

So 5th year passed slowly.

Until one morning in early march.

It was care of Magical Creatures, Gryffindor and Slytherin of course and the students had made their way to Hagrid's hut in the soft morning sun, wondering what 'harmless monster' the half-giant had set for their class this week.

They gathered in a group at the side of the Hagrid's hut, in a rough cemi-circle around the big man who was seated on one of his giant pumpkins.

"Okay you lot, got something  _real_  special for you today! Follow me!" and he led them on a small jaunt into the forbidden forest, stopping several hundred meters in at a large green clearing.

Ignoring several of the students looking around in trepidation and Malfoy's sniggering insults (despite the fact that the blonde was standing about as close to Hagrid as he could get) the teacher continued speaking "Okay. Today's treat is a real shy creature, very magical and quite dangerous."

Several groans met this.

Hagrid continued as if he hadn't heard them, "Righto, girls can stay up here, boys I need you to back off to that log over there…" he pointed to a huge fallen tree top the right of the clearing and several hundred meters away.

The students did as they we're instructed, Hagrid following the boys to settle behind them as he continued to speak, "This creature is very delicate magically, and only the purest and most innocent have ever been known to actually touch them, namely children and woman. They fear men something terrible, and perhaps rightly so."

The girls were beginning to look excited and Hermione was practically vibrating on the spot with enthusiasm as Hagrid went on, "I've been trying to find an active clearing since I started teaching care of magical creatures but haven't had any luck until this week. I had hoped you boys might be a bit younger, 15 is close enough to men that you lot wont get anywhere near her now, but you can still see her as long as you don't move…"

He gazed over the admittedly curious group again asking, "Well, who knows what creature we should see?"

Hermione of course piped up, "Oh! A unicorn Hagrid!? Really?"

Hagrid grinned and nodded, settling his large frame onto the tree trunk, which creaked with his weight. "That's right, five points to Gryffindor! Now If you boys will all sit down and try to be as non-threatening as possible, and you girls spread out through the clearing a bit, we'll see if she'll come out."

The students did as told, the girls spreading out and kneeling/sitting/squatting or standing throughout the clearing, several meters between each.

The boys all sat in a small huddled group fairly close to Hagrid, making themselves as small and as non-threatening as possible, also exited at the possibility of seeing one of the magical worlds most elusive and wondrous creatures.

Several minutes passed and a few students began to move restlessly and one whispered to a neighbour. Many of the others shushed them with vigour, being louder than the original whisper.

Hagrid grinned at seeing so many of these 'almost adults' returned to excited children at his hands.

They waited, each minute stretching in the silence, the anticipation only growing.

Until one of the girls gave a gasping sigh and drew everyone's attention her way.

* * *

Parvati giggled as the Unicorn stepped slowly into the clearing near her. Its glorious white coat shone, illuminated in the sunlight and shadows cast by the forest. The mythical horn formed from its forehead in a spiral of golden shine, matched by four hooves. Silver mane and tale spilled across the white neck and rump.

The girls ooohed and aaahed, each smiling and sighing as she passed between them, never getting close enough to touch, yet not obviously upset with there presence either.

She kept a wary gold eye on the huddle of boys though, never approaching them, or giving an indication of acceptance towards them.

She approached each of the girls in turn, wandered the entirety of the clearing and slowly returned to head back into the undergrowth of the forest when all of a sudden she stiffened rigidly, eyes swinging towards the boys. One golden hoof stamped the ground angrily and she shook her silver framed head with a disquieted snort.

Hagrid was immediately alert to the fact that something was dreadfully wrong. She was showing highly aggressive behaviour, and an aggressive Unicorn was a very dangerous creature. There were rumours that one touch of her horn could suck the life from someone, not to mention that she could easily run one of his kids through with it, if the fancy struck her.

Hagrid didn't understand the sudden change in temperament and whispered softly, "Don't move, something's wrong...do not move." And prepared himself to defend the students under his care.

The Unicorn stamped the ground angrily, and with a snort rounded on the boys.

On one boy in particular.

Harry Potter.

Of course.

* * *

Harry's green gaze widened fractionally, seeming to suck all the greenery around him in and amplify it. He held the unicorns gaze with his own and didn't back down.

It was then that Hagrid saw movement  _behind_  Harry.

'Dear Merlin', he'd brought his children into contact with a  _Nursing Mother._

In the shadows of the forest behind the boy-who-wouldn't-live-much-longer, Hagrid could just make out the softly glowing form of the tiny silver foal, the dull luminescence of its gold tail and mane almost engulfed by the inky blackness it peered out from.

"Harry, whatever you do, do not move. She will kill you if she thinks you're a threat to her baby…"

Green eyes went impossibly wide and Hagrid winced at the fear that he had struck in them.

"It's okay, It'll be okay, just don't move…" he tried to reassure the small teen, but the fear was slowly turning to resignation, as if Harry was accepting the mothers right to hurt him out of fear for her child.

(Read – Petunia/Dudley induced angst and conditioning)

Hagrid's own eyes went impossibly wide as the baby stepped from the shadows, its silver coat catching the sunlight spectacularly and the previously dull mane and tale lighting up like golden fire, eyes glowing like small golden embers in the sun.

Several of the girls started crying in fear, the boys were detached but horrified that the beauty had turned deadly.

Hagrid had never seen such a young foal, had never heard of anyone else seeing one either.

That didn't bode well for their chance of surviving this encounter.

* * *

The foal took a few more steps forward on still shaky legs, obviously only a few hours old, and Hagrid's heart constricted, to see such beauty, only to turn to death and despair.

But the foal wasn't behaving at all as it should.

One so young should not have had the courage to approach any human, let alone a grown human male. Yet, albeit slightly shaky, the little one was approaching Harry Potter bold as brass, enticing its mother to kill the object object of its fascination.

The mother lowered her head and took several charging steps forward, whole body tense with distrust and angry power.

And then the foal was there, and bunted its little head against Harry's leg, the only just forming nub on its forehead already the source of enough power to knock Harry from his feet, causing the boy to gently flop onto his bottom.

Hagrid was suddenly struck with a bittersweet flash back of the same young boy, inside the body of a tiny toddler, just one year old, being gently bunted in the stomach by the big black dog known to him as only 'Padfoot'. Harry had flopped to his bottom then as well, and an expectant look had come over his face telling of the imminent wail, and then green eyes had widened and the boy's hands had come up and tentatively slipped into the shaggy black fur, a giggling chortle escaping the small rosebud mouth.

The same look adorned his face now, and again gentle hands came up, and before Hagrid could say anything, they had slipped into the gold spun mane and the exact same chortle escaped the boy.

And then the mother stamped again angrily and trotted determinedly to where Harry was petting her baby. She lowered he bejewelled head, horn glinting dangerously close to the scar adorned forehead and the sharply nipped one soft silver ear.

The baby foal squalled in shocked pain and all but threw itself into Harry's arms seeking shelter from what had to be the sternest 'scolding Mother' face Hagrid had ever seen on any female, horse or human.

Harry hugged the foal to his chest, looking up at the mother with his bright green gaze offering apologies, sorrow, sympathy and understating. She feared for her child, and was upset at the baby's trusting nature. The unicorn started back at the human man-boy as if gauging his worth and sincerity and then to Hagrid's horror, she dipped her head, horn grazing across his lightning bolt scar and gently nibbled on his hair.

It was pure motherly indulgence.

She then turned to her baby and nudged it from Harry's arms, the boy reluctantly loosening his grip and slowly the mother herded her child back into the forest and out of sight.

Silence reigned for several minutes as Harry stared after the magical duo, wondering at his sudden feeling of loss and detachment.

Then Hagrid got shakily to his feet and began to help the students back to their own; and tucking Harry's small form protectively against his side, he slowly led the way back to his hut.

Many sidelong glances were shot at the boy-who-lived, filled with amazement, jealousy, fear, loathing, and relief, but no one said much of anything.

They just collectively chalked it up to  _HarryPotter!ism,_ and nothing else need be said.

* * *

Of course it was all over the school by that afternoon, strange tales of Hagrid, Unicorns and huge green eyes of verdant fire soft in the early morning glow.

Harry just ignored it, as he ever did, but those closest to him noticed that the strangely buoyant and carefree Harry of the past few months was gone, replaced with the same brittle, shy boy from before the holidays.

It angered them as not much else would.

Between the eight of them they managed to get the majority of the school to lay off, and it helped that the worst contender for Harry tormenting, aka, Draco Malfoy didn't seem to know what to make of the unicorn situation.

Things seemed to settle again, and three days later conversation had moved on. Mostly.

* * *

The great hall on Thursday morning, four days later, was loud and packed with students eating, chatting ad laughing before their first class.

Harry and his gang had just sat down when they were disturbed by a knock on the great wooden doors that lead to the grounds and most of the students and staff looked up, wondering who would knock.

The doors opened inwards with a wave of Albus Dumbledore's hand and the most peculiar situation Hogwarts had ever seen began to form.

The unicorn was magnificent, the same, yet vastly different to the mother the fith year's had seen earlier in the week. The same luminous white coat, and silver main and tail were offset by horn and hooves of lustrous black. Corded muscle rippled beneath the stretched skin and golden eyes searched the hall fearlessly.

The stallion; the lone adult male of the herd stepped into the hall, nickering softly over his shoulder; an obvious demand to follow.

A further two steps and his companion was not revealed and the ancient magnificent king snorted in obvious exasperation and stamped out of the hall, disappearing from curious eyes for a few seconds before he returned, this time nudging the tiny silver foal along with the side of his head, easily manoeuvring the baby into the hall despite its apparent reluctance.

The stallion stopped and the baby pressed against his front legs, trying, quite successfully mind you, to hide from the blatant stares surrounding them.

The stallion stamped his foot again and looked at the students and staff, obviously searching.

And then he found what he was looking for.

In the form of one wide eyed Harry Potter.

* * *

The Unicorn lowered his magnificent head, mane trailing to the floor as his horn gently brushed against the tiny nub on the baby's own forehead and immediately the little head shot out form between the older unicorn's legs.

Searching.

Finding, and an excited squeal rose from the little unicorn and like a rocket the baby launched itself at the Gryffindor table.

* * *

Or at least tried to; the shiny flat surface was foreign under hooves used to dirt and grass and they slipped and slid, sending the baby sliding across the floor like a drunken ballerina on skates, until it went down off all fours completely and slid across the floor spread eagled.

Silence reigned for a minute and then the laughter began, loud and boisterous.

It continued for several minutes and many would swear that the little unicorn was decidedly pinker than it had been a minute ago. The stallion stomped his foot and snorted and the hall feel into dead silence.

The baby mewled pathetically as it unsuccessfully tried to stand again.

Several girls 'aaawed'.

The baby attempted to stand again but couldn't and began to panic. Bleating tremors of upset and fright bled into its cry.

And then it was swept off the cold floor into a warm embrace, looking up the baby met THE gorgeous eyes of emerald and snuggled closer; having achieved its goal.

Harry sighed at his luck and hooked the baby closer, settling its small weight more securely against his own lean frame.

All the girls 'aaawed'.

Harry blushed red and turned to the stallion in hopes of an explanation.

The stallion snorted again and gestured to the baby in his arms with a completely obvious, "He's your problem now, chosen one".

And then The stallion promptly stomped his foot, snorted and trotted out of the hall and back toward the forest leaving Harry Potter with a baby unicorn in his arms.

Looking down at his apparent charge Harry was stunned to see green eyes the exact same shade as his staring back.

But hadn't the baby had gold eyes like both the adults he had seen?

What was going on!?

* * *

Dumbledore had permitted him to keep the baby, especially after being tag teamed with  _two_ sets of beautiful green eyes full of worry and hope.

And so little 'Astro' joined Harry Potters group, at times his familiar, pet, friend, and child.

It became strange to see Harry without the little foal either in his arms or trailing behind him like a puppy.

The baby loved Hermione and Ginny.

Was wary of Ron, Dean, Sheamus and Neville.

Seemed thoroughly confused by the twins mirror like appearance.

Astro had also taken a liking to one Draco Malfoy.

Most speculated that it was the similar colouring that enticed the baby into the Slytherin's company, but some saw the sparkle in silver eyes at the honestly given affection and wondered.

But without a doubt the baby idolized none more than he adored Harry Potter.

_Which, as we know, is completely understandable._

* * *

It had been a week since the arrival of Hogwarts youngest guest, and still the fervour was yet to die down.

Harry entered his dorm room; intent on getting an early night, Astro was in Hermione and Ginny's capable hands and the girls had promised to deliver him to Harry before they went to bed.

Harry himself was just exhausted. He hadn't been able to get a moment to himself since the arrival of Astro; people were constantly following him to fawn over the baby and he could understand that. He knew that this was probably a once in a lifetime opportunity.

But still.

For someone as intensely private and instinctively shy as Harry, it was also a nightmare.

Slipping into his pyjamas and turning to get into bed Harry's was surprised top see the white Unicorn Taff on his pillow, and shrugging he wondered at this secret kindness, suspecting Neville or Hermione. Popping the sugary treat in his mouth he relaxed, intent on sleep.

* * *

And so it went, time passed, classes continued, Harry battled death eaters and the like, always escaping with his life intact to return to his friends and Astro. Every three days someone would leave a sugary sweet on his pillow and Harry had given up attempting to work out who. All his guesses and subtle hints had garnered nothing but a few strange looks and so Harry let the matter lie, only worrying about the expense someone was going to, to shower him with the delicacy.

Astro grew slowly but surely, putting on weight and bulking out. He still insisted that Harry carry him but people were joking that soon the young Unicorn would be better able to carry Harry than the other way round.

Astro was about six months old when he began to fully mature, his horn growing in and hardening, and his coat beginning to whiten from its silvery birth colour. Like the stallion, his horn and hooves were black, but his tale and mane were also obsidian in colour, becoming a striking contrast against his white body.

Hagrid was stumped, he'd only ever seen white bodies and silver haired Unicorns…and only the dominant stallion had the black hooves and horn. He did confirm that Astro was for all intents and purposes 'the prince of the forest' but couldn't explain the black hair. But then, neither could they explain the green eyes.

* * *

Astro really did begin carrying Harry at about eight months of age, but only after Harry had proved,  _pointedly_ , that Astro was too big for him to carry anymore.

Despite Astro's strong friendship with many of the schools female students as well as the love that he had formed for all members of Harry's group, he only ever allowed Harry to ride him.

* * *

Ten months old and Astro had been close to full grown, but still played with the coltishness of his youth. It was commonplace to see Astro cantering across the snow covered grounds, Harry laughing on his back, long black hair streaming out behind him, blending with Astro's tail.

It was pretty much common knowledge that Astro had something to do with the fact that Harry's hair was now past his waist and strewn with more gold than not. His skin was also as luminescent as Astro's own. Together, none could compete against their spectacle.

* * *

Summer holidays came and went, with Astro at the school and Harry at the Dursley's. It was agony being separated, but in the end, it was for the best, as Astro started to show some dominance and maturity as he approached full grown.

At twelve months it all started to change, Astro was full grown, larger even than the stallion from the forest and his horn had hardened to a deep obsidian ivory.

He cantered the edge of the forest at night and was restless during the day.

And then, in early march again he saw her for the first time. The young female mare, on the out skirts of the forest, called to his strength and power, to be his mate, his match, his equal.

And Harry had to let him go.

* * *

It was hard, harder than anything Harry had ever done. But Astro was grown and needed him no more and so in late April Harry rode Astro for the final time, deep into the forest, past the clearing and beyond.

They eventually stopped deep in a hidden grove and Harry slipped from the strong body, noting that he now could not see over Astro's back. The tables had turned and Astro was now the adult and Harry the young child.

Harry stayed with Astro that final night, curled into the warmth of the protective body. And the next morning he woke alone and knew that he would never see Astro again.

* * *

Weeping softly, both for his loss and for what he had gained, Harry began to wander back towards where he thought the castle was, suddenly aware of how small and fragile he was in an incredibly dark, forbidden place.

He walked for hours and hours, never stopping despite the growing fatigue and fear, completely and utterly lost. Panic began to rise, but each time he beat it back down. And then the sun began to set and Harry knew that he would not survive the night in such a terrifying place. The shadows began to creep and scratch at his soul and blindly, sobbing brokenly he began to run, heedless of the target he now presented with his glowing skin.

Inhuman wails and shrieks split the air, wraith like branched fingers clawed at his flesh splattered his precious blood as he whipped past sharp points and thorned darkness.

And then, out of nowhere he smashed into something solid and immovable, and lost within terror he flung himself back, feeling tree collide with his back painfully, jarring his body. Sheer terror escaped his soul as he crouched, low and hysterical against the tree, feeling the solidness of his attacker press in on him.

He waited for death.

Only it did not come.

Gathering his Gryffindor courage and stopping the heavy flow of tears he braved a look and was stunned at the sight of Astro's strong body mere inches away.

And then he looked closer.

Not Astro.

The stallion. Astro's sire.

The king.

Stark terror rose again as the Black horned unicorn stepped towards him and he ceased breathing in that instant.

The horn drew closer and he was sure he was about to be struck down when a sharp pain blazed up from the side of his head.

* * *

One hand flew to his ear and he felt the stinging welt that the Stallion had caused with his reprimanding bite.

Sobs of shear clarifying relief broke free and Harry threw himself at the Stallion, burying his face in the solid warm strength and his fingers in the silver man, shaking with remembered terror and longing.

They stood that way for a moment, still. Silent, strong and then the stallion nudged the small of Harry's back gently and bent his front leg slightly, and Harry having felt the gesture many times from Astro pulled himself onto the white back, never once removing his face or hands for the solid strength offered.

Still sobbing softly, he felt the stallion move into a smooth canter as he travelled through the foreboding darkness with all the ease of the realm's king.

Finally, what felt like hours later the stallion slowed, standing still, graceful and strong against the soft glow of Hogwarts in the outskirts of the forest?

And there he stood, sentinel for the weeping young one on his back. One who had given so much to his herd that not even he was aware of.

* * *

Hours later, although for the boy it may well have just been minutes, the Sire felt the boy calm and gently knelt a little so he did not have so far to drop.

Harry leaned for a few more minutes and then pulled back a little, allowing the stallion to look into the eyes that now matched his own child's.

He lowered his horn, silently angry at the repeated flinch, furious that any child expected such harm for no reason. What had been done to this child in the past?

The horn-tip touched the small chest, over one frantically beating heart and Harry gasped when the soft voice chanted darkly through his mind.

" _I am Sire, you we thank. Set my little one to great, for you little one, are great. A gift. And a debt…"_

He stepped back, gold eyes locked on green for several minutes and then with a gentle push he turned Harry towards the castle and nudged his shoulder when the boy still didn't move towards sanctuary.

Shaking his head in fond exasperation of the young, Sire's teeth snapped gently at the still form before him, startling a shriek and a soft sob to break free as the boy took a halting step forward, Sire snapped again and two hands whipped back to cover his smarting bottom.

Crying softly Harry left the darkness of the forest, wandering towards the small side entrance near the herbology greenhouses.

Sire tossed his head at the soft lingering sounds of the young ones distress. He knew they formed attachments differently; stronger, than his own kind, and that with time, the pain would fade and only memories remain. But until then the child would hurt; unicorn magic was startlingly powerful when one was saturated with it and it altered ones emotions.

Shaking his head in ruefulness at his melancholy at having hurt the child, Sire watched as Harry disappeared inside.

On the wind he spoke, a language not used for millennia.

" _Have faith Star Child"_

And then he was gone, but a shadow in the forest.

* * *

Harry returned to Gryffindor tower, eyes dry, but red and raw from salt and terror. Stepping in he was met with two identical faces peering over the back of the couch.

Four warm brown eyes widened in shock, amazement, concern and  _was that anger_?

"Harry!"

"-Where have you-"

"-been, the Professors have been-"

"-frantically looking for you since-"

"-you didn't come back last night"

Fred was on his feet and around the couch; George mirrored him on the other side.

"Where have you been?!"

The last was said together and was mixed with concern, anger, worry and relief.

It was all too much for Harry, who felt his cheeks go red but was unable to stop the tears from falling again.

The anger and relief immediately faded but the worry and concern grew stronger as the two seventh years led him around and eased him down to lie on the couch.

"Harry, what's wrong?!"

"Harry! I'm going to get a teacher!"

Harry's eyes flew open at that and he sat up quickly shaking his head, long hair flying about him in graceful waves.

"No! I'm fine…" at their disbelieving looks he dropped his eyes but continued, "I'm okay…" and he was stunned to realise that he really was okay, physically at least, despite his terrifying run through the forest and bashing into the tree, he had no physical injuries at all, only a slight burning on his….well, Sire must have healed him as well.

Blushing, he lifted his eyes as he explained, "It's just, Astro is gone and I'll never see him again….", he bit his lower lip when it insisted on trembling beneath welling eyes.

George sighed in sympathy and the twins flopped down on either side of him, Fred putting a strong arm around his shoulder as he spoke softly.

"I'm really sorry Harry. I know how much you loved him, and he loved you as well. You really did a great job with him, and I'm sure he will remember you for the rest of his life…."

George nodded his agreement and smiling, yanked Harry's feet up and swivelled him so he was half sprawled across his and Fred 's lap, "Get some sleep, you look exhausted, I'm sure you will feel better in the morning. Fred and I will let everyone know what has happened and that you are fine, just sleep…."

His last words were unnecessary as Harry was already out like a light bulb, tear tracks drying on his pale skin, glowing in the firelight. His hand was tucked up under his cheek and he was half curled into Fred's stomach, and not completely relaxed, but he was asleep.

George alerted the teachers and the search was called off. At Fred and George's insistence that Harry was physically fine, the Professors agreed to wait until morning to speak with him and thus Fred and George stayed up all night guarding the young one as he slept between them.

* * *

**Beginning of seventh year Harry Potter Defeated Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort during the battle to become known as 'The battle of Hogwarts.**

**Witnesses claim that the boy saviour merely touched his hand to Riddles chest and the darkness personified exploded.**

**Others tell of a gruesome and gruelling battle between the two, with Harry growing steadily brighter until he exploded, dragging the dark lord down with him.**

**Still others tell of the Hogwarts star Child; a Unicorn, Black as ebony, Hair of golden silk and eyes of emerald green, racing through the Forbidden forest, the Sire of all time.**

And yet, friend and descendants still tell the tale of Harry discovering during seventh year potions exactly what a unicorn-Taff was. Unicorn Dung. And not being at all put off, in fact several say he started the revolution of 'Magic mallows'.

* * *

_  
The Star Child_

_Star Bright, Star light_

_Grown of night, yet as of light_

_As strands of gold, and Stars untold_

_Ye shall take darken unto fold._

A children's bedtime song, sung throughout every generation for millennia, heard in the tongue of many species, lost to time yet still the same.

******

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- EDITED 
> 
> \- This is, I must report, very odd, and very, very silly. A totally off the cuff one shot. I hope it made you giggle.
> 
> -No idea what I was thinking when I wrote this, but I had fun. 
> 
> -Please let me know what you think…


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